


Mercy's Captain

by Midorisakura (Calacious)



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Community: cottoncandy_bingo, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Trope Bingo Round 3, semi-fusion with One Piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:29:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Midorisakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve, captain of a pirate ship called the Mercy, comes across an unlikely trio – Max, an annoying doctor who refuses to leave Danny’s side; Grace, a little girl with a gift for separating pirates from their gold; and Danny, a young, traumatized man who, due to extensive torture at the hands of the infamous pirate, Wo Fat, no longer has a tongue, or a voice – he wants to make them part of his ragtag crew. Problem, Danny hates the sea, and pirates, and who can blame him after all that he’s been through? Will Steve be able to conquer Danny’s heart, like he’s conquered the sea?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Milestone

**Author's Note:**

> Cotton Candy Prompts: Milestone, Wordless Communication, Nightmares, worth it
> 
> Trope bingo prompt: against all odds
> 
> Please let me know if you like this. It isn't perfect, and I'm okay with that. This is a work of AU fiction, and does not feature the Five-0 characters in their typical roles. It also features a world in which piracy is the norm, as is a life built around the sea.

Finally catching up to the ruthless pirate, Wo Fat, had been a milestone for the McGarrett pirate clan. Steve could taste the bittersweet tang of victory on his tongue, and smell it in the air – a heady mixture of gunpowder, oil, sweat and blood.

Wo Fat, and his family of pirates, had been taunting the McGarretts for several generations – some legends would have had Steve, and pirate fans the world over, believe that the two pirate clans had been at war for several centuries bleeding into the present.

In reality, the war was only a few generations old, stretching, not into centuries, but mere decades. The hatred, though, felt centuries long, and was bone deep. Wo Fat had murdered Steve’s father, and was an ever present threat to Mary, Steve’s sister, who ran her own pirate crew.

Following his father’s death, Steve’s mother, Doris, had been on the run for most of Steve’s life, and he could barely remember what she looked like. Though he equated the smell of vanilla and lilacs with her, he had no idea why.

It had been years since Steve had been taken in by Joe White – a Navy man. He’d taught Steve everything he knew, and helped Steve start up his own pirate crew a few years ago, even though he’d expressed disappointment that Steve had quit the Navy in favor of carrying out his family’s vendetta. Though their paths rarely crossed, now that Steve had established a name for himself, they came to each other’s aid when necessary, Joe turning a blind eye to Steve’s piracy.

Milestone victory or not, McGarrett had every right to be proud, even if he didn’t quite feel it yet – he didn’t like losing good men and women in battle. The Wo Fat pirate crew had been terrorizing the open seas, and the islands they debarked on for rest and relaxation, for far too long, and he was giving pirates a bad reputation the world over, causing the Navy to treat all pirates as enemies.

The Navy had problems of its own – corrupt leaders who could be easily bribed, many of whom were on Wo Fat’s payroll. Now that Steve and his crew had brought down one of Wo Fat’s ships (he had several), there was hope that the Navy would stop breathing down the necks of the good, mostly law-abiding, pirates.

Wo Fat’s pirate crews, however, were known for their lawlessness, and they often got away with their crimes, because of the loose laws which governed the sea. The Navy, though it was large, and loomed over the pirate world, like a dark cloud, had surprisingly little power and authority to bring any justice to pirates who acted mercilessly, which was why Steve had left the Navy, disgruntled and weary of never making any headway against pirates like Wo Fat and the Hesse brothers who ruled the sea with terror.

The vast majority of pirate ships were legitimate business enterprises that saw no bloodshed, but there were a few – the Wo Fats and Hesses of the pirating world – who were bloodthirsty and did not hesitate to initiate hostile takeovers, often killing entire crews who didn’t agree to join them, and then using extortion to buyout their business partners. They were enemies, not only of the Navy, and smaller police forces, who governed the seas, but of other pirates who were trying to uphold legitimate business practices.

Feeling more weary than victorious, Steve spotted his second in command, and gestured toward the downed Wo Fat, not quite believing that the infamous pirate was really dead and bleeding out from a gut wound, entrails spilling out on the bloodied deck. The battle was still fresh, and Steve could taste the copper of blood and peppery gunpowder on his tongue.

He’d gotten lucky, chasing down a rumor he’d heard while trading goods with a small island. The trader had mentioned something about Wo Fat overtaking a cruise ship filled with passengers headed from the mainland Americas to the sovereign Hawaiian islands. There’d been nothing broadcast on the radio news about it, but Steve had known, in his gut, that what the trader had said was true.

Wo Fat, and his crew, had, according to the rumor, overtaken the ship, and had butchered the mostly wealthy passengers, keeping only a few alive to trade, or to service their own needs. Before bringing their few captives, and the booty that they’d attained from the cruise ship over to their own, they’d disabled the life rafts, and then sunk the ship, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, with many of the passengers still alive.

The sunken ship’s whereabouts remained unknown, but Steve had heard that, finally, after several months missing, the Navy was investigating the mysterious disappearance of the cruise ship. That Steve had found Wo Fat before the Navy had, was a godsend, because, for once, justice had been served.

There was little Steve could do for the families of those who’d been killed by the pirates, but, what he could do – set those who’d survived free – he would.

 “Chin, I’m going down below decks to see if there are any more surprises waiting for us. Secure the prisoners, and make sure that your cousin doesn’t inflict too much damage on those who’ve willingly surrendered to us.” Steve winked at the man he trusted more than anyone, and tried to ignore the sharp, questioning look that Chin shot in his direction, which encouraged him to be careful, and cautioned him against going alone.

 


	2. Chin Ho Kelly, Captain McGarrett’s Right Hand Man - Keeper of the Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little background on some members of Steve's crew, from Chin's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the supportive comments. I hope you will continue to enjoy the story.

Nodding, Chin turned his back on the captain and began barking orders to the remaining crew, securing prisoners and freeing those who’d been enslaved by Wo Fat. Until they debarked in Honolulu, several weeks away, those who’d been rescued would become part of Steve’s crew.

There was no getting around that, and with five of their crew having died in the battle, they’d need all hands they could get until Steve was able to find replacements for those he’d lost.

The prisoners would be handed off to naval officers when they happened upon a Navy ship, or when they got to land, whichever came first, and then they’d head out to sea again. None of them really liked being away from it, and the freedom that it offered.

It wouldn’t be easy finding replacements, and Steve always took any loss to heart. Chin knew that his captain would be in a brood for several days, and hoped that he wouldn’t take it out on the remaining crew.  

As usual, Chin would act as a buffer between the captain and his crew, but it would take a toll on him and the others, who’d lost friends closer than the families they’d left behind to follow the calling of life on the high seas. No one ever regretted following the call, some were even born to it, but it often came at a heavy price.

Today, their calling had exacted a heavy price – five of their own dead. The fact that they’d killed over half of Wo Fat’s crew, and Wo Fat himself, did little to ease that pain.

Wo Fat had a large family, and revenge would be first and foremost on their minds. Not that that was anything new. There’d always been a blood-feud between the McGarretts and the Wo Fats, and Steve made no bones about it when he hired people onto his crew, letting them know exactly what they were getting themselves into. Preparing them for the possibility of battle and death before they set foot on the John McGarrett, named after Steve’s late father. An unusual, yet fitting name for Steve’s ship.

“Kono,” Chin called to his cousin, who turned to him – her dark eyes gleaming from the thrill of the fight, and mouth spread ear-to-ear in a wide, maniacal grin. Sometimes the girl scared even him, but she was good in a fight, and she was family.

Life on the sea ran in their family, the fact that they’d chosen to throw in with pirates, rather than Sea Rangers (police who worked the seas nearer land), or the Navy, was a sore spot with the rest of their family, and they’d been shunned for it, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

They liked working for the McGarretts. Chin had started working for John shortly after he’d trained with the Sea Rangers, only to be deemed unfit for sea due to an injury he’d gotten during training. Pride had prevented him from telling his family the truth about why he hadn’t joined the Sea Rangers like the rest of the Kellys.

John had thought nothing of adding him to his crew, though Chin would never walk without a limp. When John had been killed, Chin had opted to be land-bound rather than serve a new master when one of Wo Fat’s underlings took over the ship.

Had he been fit of body, he’d have been killed outright, but because he was considered handicapped, he’d been set free – one of the few mercies that were practiced upon the high seas, no matter the character of the pirate, the lame and children were often left alone, though not always unscathed.

Chin had lost track of Steve after John’s death, thankful that Steve hadn’t been on the ship at the time, knowing that Steve, as a child, would’ve been ‘adopted’ and raised by the pirate – Delano – who’d taken over John’s ship. Instead, Steve, sick at the time, had been land-bound, staying with an aunt, and then John White had swooped in, taking Steve, at Doris’ behest, and training him for a life on the sea, as a Naval Cadet.

Steve had returned to his birth land after a long stint with the Navy, and was looking to reclaim his father’s shipping lanes, as well as exact revenge on Wo Fat for the death of his father, when he happened upon Chin. Chin had known Steve when he was just a kid, and had wondered if he’d follow in his father’s and mother’s footsteps.

Steve found him – guiding tourists through a pirate ship museum on the island of Oahu – and without hesitation had asked Chin to join the crew he was putting together. Chin had agreed, with only a mild attempt at deflection, and had immediately thought of his cousin, Kono, who’d likewise been injured during her training, and was destined to remain land-bound herself, though she loved the sea.

She possessed a keen mind, and an uncanny sense of direction, which would make her an asset on any ship. The fact that she was as ruthless and cutthroat as Wo Fat was purported to be, was another point in her favor.

Greedy, Kono also had an almost supernatural sense of where treasure was buried, or stored away. There was no denying it, Kono thrived as a pirate, living to pillage and plunder. She took great pleasure in killing, and, if she could, Chin thought that she just might bathe in the jewels and gold that she helped Steve bring in.

“It’s a pirate life for me,” Kono sang off-key, her smile misleading as she bound one of Wo-Fat’s crew, striking him across the face, and stuffing a bloodied rag into his mouth when he spit at her.

In spite of the bloodthirsty greed that piracy had brought out in his little cousin, Chin felt that it had been worthwhile for the both of them to join Steve on his quest. If they hadn’t, then Kono would have channeled her energies elsewhere, and that wouldn’t have been good for anyone. As a pirate in the crew of a former navy man, she had certain liberties that would otherwise have landed her in prison.

Following Steve, and leaving everything that they knew and believed in behind, had been worth it, not only for him and Kono, but for everyone in their small diverse crew of misfits. It had been worth the loss, and the pain, and the sacrifices that they’d had to make along the way.

“Kono,” Chin raised his voice to be heard above the melee of soft crying and cursing that their brief battle had wrought.

Kono reluctantly turned away from the pirate she was trussing up, and frowned at Chin. Her face was spattered with blood that Chin doubted belonged to her and her hair, bound in a loose ponytail, was whipping behind her in the wind. She looked beautiful and deadly.

“Stop playing with the mice, Kitten, and go help our fearless captain below decks,” Chin said, shaking his head, and stifling a chuckle when Kono whirled around and slammed a fist into the pirate’s face when he tried to take advantage of her shift in focus. The man wobbled on his feet, eyes wide with surprise, before toppling over onto his back and then curling in on himself when Kono delivered a booted kick to his ribs.

“Aw, do I have to?” Kono asked, pouting, her lower lip protruding and quivering slightly. It was a look that she’d perfected over the years, and one that Chin had developed (almost) a hard-heart toward.

“Yes,” Chin said, holding his ground as Kono’s lip started trembling. She kicked the downed pirate in the lower back when he dared to try to inch away from her.

“Why don’t you send Jenna or Lori?” Kono squinted as she looked around the deck for the two women, pointing in triumph when she spotted Jenna, tending to a little girl and a young man who looked a little worse for the wear.

The woman in question was kneeling before the little, dark-haired girl, speaking quietly to her, and nodding her head at whatever the little girl was saying. The little girl was clutching a young, harried looking man’s hand tightly, as though afraid to let go. The young man’s eyes were focused solely on the child.

To Chin’s trained eye, the child looked distressed, and she was gesturing wildly toward where he stood, in front of the cabin leading to the quarters beneath the deck. Chin couldn’t hear any of what was being said over the sound of the wind, and the various moans and cries that were being made by the injured and dying.

“Jenna’s busy, and you know how the captain feels about Lori,” Chin said, raising an eyebrow – the newest recruit’s crush on the captain was obvious and made the man uncomfortable, and he often went out of his way to avoid being alone with her. Chin refused to give into the temptation to let his cousin have her way when her lower lip seemed to grow fatter as she continued to pout.

With one last, vicious kick to her prisoner’s back, Kono tossed her long hair behind her back, and pushed past her cousin, hollering down to Steve as she went below deck. They all knew what could happen if Steve was caught off-guard, and it wasn’t pretty. Bruises and broken bones were often the price to be paid for spooking their exacting, yet beloved captain.

Sighing, Chin rubbed at the shoulder his cousin had rammed into as she’d passed him, and he surveyed the rest of the crew on deck. Jenna was still tending to the child and the young man, a familiar, determined look on her face that Chin knew would no doubt cause him and Captain Steve McGarrett matching headaches.

Lori was quickly and efficiently tying up the few pirates who’d surrendered, binding them hand and foot, and ignoring whatever it was that they were saying to her. Judging by the disgusted look on her face, the pirate with a mullet was saying something particularly uncouth to her.

Chin smiled to himself when, without second-guessing herself, Lori slammed an elbow into the pirate’s face, causing blood to gush out of his nose. She stuffed a rag in his mouth, and tugged extra hard on the rope that she’d secured around his wrists. Judging by the way the man’s face twisted, it was rather painful. Lori had come a long ways in the short time that she’d been with them, and Chin was proud to see that she’d gained some confidence in herself, and had stopped, at least for the time being, hesitating.

Steve had rescued Lori, much as he had all of those in his motley crew, from a life of oppression and hardship. He could have good, able-bodied men and women in his crew, but he chose, instead, to seek out those who were looked down upon in society, and invite them to join him. The handicapped and the hurting. Those who’d been turned on by their family and friends, or the government. For all intents and purposes, societal rejects.

All Steve asked for in return was their unwavering loyalty, and it was freely given him, because he was a good, kind, and just, if taxing, leader.

Steve had found Lori languishing in a labor camp on a little known island that they’d visited to try and initiate trade on. She’d been subsisting, for months, on daily rations of stale bread and murky water. She was bruised, and dehydrated, beaten almost daily when it was determined that she’d been slacking in her duties.

Her crime – daring to question her small island nation’s leader on a decision involving a small estate of land that had a clean stream of water, and flourishing apple orchard which the leader coveted. There’d been a massacre, everyone, including women and children, had been slaughtered by the leader’s men, and Lori, for going against what she’d felt was an unfair decision, had been sentenced to live out the rest of her days in a labor camp, serving the leader she’d dared to call out for his inequity.

It had taken the ship’s doctor, Malia, weeks to coax her back to health, and then she’d latched onto Steve like a lamprey, her crush evident in the way she looked at her feet, and blushed whenever she was in the presence of the captain who’d rescued her. Though Chin had jibed Steve about it, he knew why her attentions made the captain nervous, and he did his best to keep them apart whenever possible.

Steve was still in mourning. Albeit, an unorthodox type of mourning, being that the woman he loved wasn’t dead. No, Catherine Rollins was very much alive, but she’d broken off her relationship with Steve when he’d chosen to leave the Navy and follow in his father’s footsteps.

She still, on occasion, helped Steve, giving him coordinates for alternate routes which would enable him to avoid a run-in with the Navy, or local Sea Rangers. But, they were no longer lovers, and Chin knew that Steve felt that loss keenly. Steve wasn’t ready to move on from that quite yet, and when he did, Chin knew that it wouldn’t be Lori, or Jenna, or Malia, or Kono who would ease the ache in the captain’s heart.


	3. Kono Kalakaua -- Kind-hearted Warrior with Nerves of Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kono follows Steve into the bowels of Wo Fat's ship, and what they discover makes her realize just how easy she's had it while under Steve's employ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get our first glimpse of Danny, from Kono's perspective. 
> 
> Sorry that I didn't get this out earlier. I hope people still enjoy it.

“Captain, oh Captain,” Kono called out, keeping her voice light, though she was still feeling a little put out that Chin had asked her to watch after Steve.

She doubted that there were any rogue pirates lurking below decks, and, if there were, Steve would not need her help in handling them. There weren’t many left alive who could get the upper hand on the captain. Actually, to Kono’s knowledge, there was no one who fit that bill. It was an interesting thought, and one that Kono was going to file away for another day. She brushed at a strand of hair that had fallen across her eye, and stopped to listen for Steve. It was eerily quiet below deck, and Kono frowned. She put her hand on the hilt of her knife, edging it out of her scabbard almost silently.

“Steve?” Kono kept her voice even, and listened once the echoes of her word died down.

She was midway down the stairs leading to the bowels of the ship, where the former captain and crew were housed and fed, and where captives were kept locked up in cells. She shivered as she recalled having been locked up in a cell herself for a short time when she’d been captured by one of the Hesse brothers, and held as bait for Steve. It hadn’t worked, and she’d been rescued a few days after she’d been taken, but being trapped had been a hell all its own, and Kono hadn’t been able to go below deck for several weeks afterwards, preferring to sleep above deck, beneath the wide open expanse of stars.

She took a deep breath, pushing thoughts of her imprisonment away, and plunged further into the depths of the ship.

“Steve,” Kono called out a little louder. “Chin sent me down to…”

A hand clamped over her mouth, and an arm wrapped around her chest the second she stepped off the last step.

The whispered, “Shh,” lips pressed against her ear, did nothing to soothe her, and she lashed out, kicking the man who’d grabbed her from behind, and she dug an elbow deep into his gut.

She didn’t allow the small rush of triumph that she felt, when a whoosh of air left the man’s mouth, make her feel overconfident, though, because the man was still on her, and she knew that, in the small confines of the hallway, it would be easy for him to regain the upper hand. She stomped on the man’s foot, and pushed backwards, slamming him into the wall, causing him to lose his grip on her, and then she whirled around, prepared to use the dagger she held before her to kill whoever had snuck up on her.

“Whoa, easy there, Kitten,” Steve said, holding his hands out in front of him.

Kono was sorely tempted to jam the knife into her captain’s shoulder, and twist it, just because. Instead, she sheathed her knife, and settled for stomping on his foot once more, and shoving him back against the wall.

Glaring at Steve, Kono crossed her arms over her chest, and raised an eyebrow, much as she’d seen Chin do when he wanted answers that Steve was withholding. It was a look that always worked for her cousin, and, though she was younger, she didn’t see why it wouldn’t work for her as well. Steve scowled at her, and shifted, taking weight off of the foot that Kono had stomped on, twice.

Steve rubbed at the shoulder she’d shoved against the wall, and shook his head, pressing a finger to his lips to silence the angry retort that she was ready to lob at him. She pursed her lips and nodded once, to show that she’d understood, and then she slid into the shadows beside her captain, trusting that he’d explain to her what they were doing, virtually hiding in the open hallway.

Kono rolled her eyes when Steve reached for her hand and signaled left by pressing his index finger and thumb, in the shape of an ‘L’ into her palm, and then two fingers, meaning that he suspected there were two of Wo Fat’s crew members still lurking below deck. Cowards, she thought, and she squeezed Steve’s hand, letting him know that she understood. She drew her knife once again, and waited, listening, canceling out the sound of Steve’s almost soundless breathing, and that of her own, nearly equally silent breaths. She wasn’t quite as noiseless as Steve, though she was working on it. Steve was her hero, as much as, maybe a smidgeon more than, Chin was. The man was a veritable ninja in stealth, deadly as hell and yet he was one of the kindest – if awkwardly so – men in the world.

When she grew up, Kono wanted to be half-Chin, with his wisdom and calm, yet kickass ways, and half-Steve. For now, though, she waited, shoulder pressed to Steve’s arm, syncing her breaths with his. He held a finger up, and Kono’s eyes followed the movement, seeing a shadow, and then a second, quickly cross the hallway.

The men, their faces hidden in shadow, stood on either side of what must have been a door, and whispered harshly, arguing with each other over opening the door to Wo Fat’s cabin now that the sounds of battle had died down.

“We can’t just leave him in there,” one whispered, his voice carrying to Kono and Steve, despite trying to keep it down.

“Why not?” the other man asked, voice raised a little louder than a whisper.

Kono could see the white of the man’s eyes in the dim light that crept in through a crack in the floor above them.

“Wo Fat’s dead, we don’t need to take care of his broken little wench any longer. Let the poor bloke die. He ain’t got no tongue. I say we let him go down with the ship. No way Pirate McGarrett’s gonna let this ship continue to sail. Let the poor man die. He’s suffered enough,” the man insisted, his whisper growing louder with each word, in spite of his counterpart diligently shushing him.

The other man shook his head, and, though his hands trembled, the keys rattling on the chain that he held, he put the key into the lock. Kono mentally cursed when she realized that, like the shadows that kept them concealed, Steve had moved from beside her and was halfway to the men, before she’d even noticed that he’d moved. Super-Ninja-Navy-SEAL, she muttered to herself, and then she slipped into the shadows behind him, following him step for step, taking note of everything that he did, studying his movements, and learning, so that, later, she could recreate this moment on her own and strive to perfect it. She’d have to thank Chin for sending her below deck to check on Steve, though she doubted that he’d had this in mind when he sent her to accompany their leader.

Kono smiled to herself, and held her breath when they came to within arm’s reach of the two men who had, in spite of their continued bickering, succeeded in finally opening the door. Light spilled into the hallway, and there was the distinct, muffled sound of pounding coming from within the room. Kono stopped when Steve stopped, not needing the signal of his closed fist to tell her to stop and be quiet. Her nerves were thrumming, and the dull, thud, thud, thud coming from the room, set her on edge.

“Hey, Daniel Williams, everything’s okay,” the first man – he didn’t look like a pirate, now that they were closer – was saying. He kept his voice low, as though he was trying not to spook a wild, trapped animal, holding his hands up and out in a placating fashion. “It’s just me, Max. Wo Fat’s not coming, I promise.”

The thuds stopped, but then a hair-raising sound issued from within the room. It was a loud, keening, and the man named Max rushed into the room, leaving the second, slimmer man – definitely a pirate –to stand, hovering in the doorway.

Steve, fist held up, ordering Kono to stay put and stand her ground, surged forward. In the blink of an eye, Steve had wrapped a forearm around the pirate’s neck, choking him, and then he twisted, breaking the man’s neck with a single sickening snap that killed the man instantly. Steve continued to move, positioning the dead man in a seated position against the wall. He released the hold he’d placed on Kono, giving her leave to move, and she rushed to follow him into the room.

What Kono saw shocked her more than she’d thought possible. She’d seen a lot of things since she’d been working with Steve, but nothing had prepared her for what she saw before Steve shoved her out of the room, and shut the door, leaving her out in the dark hallway, with a dead man slumped against the wall. Kono didn’t realize that she was shaking until she raised her hand, intending to knock on the door, and demand to be let back in. She might be the youngest one on the crew, but she wasn’t a child. She didn’t need to be sheltered from the harsh realities of what a true pirate’s life entailed, the brutality that those who didn’t live by the codes which had been established by the forefathers of their ilk, and upheld by Steve and Chin, visited upon their victims.

She’d caught barely a glimpse of the man. Daniel Williams, according to Max. His wrists were bloodied from where they were bound tightly to an iron bed frame by metal handcuffs. His shoulders were bulging awkwardly, bent and twisted painfully from the looks of them. And he was naked, his body pale and bruised, and covered with bloodied stripes. The look in his blue eyes was that of pure terror, the likes of which Kono had never seen before.

Her fist was poised mid-knock, and swallowing past a sudden lump of emotion, she took a step away from the door, sidestepping the dead man; she slumped to the floor beside him, nudging him with her shoulder. It was a little crazy, but right now, Kono needed a little crazy. She’d heard about pirates plundering and raping, and she was all for plundering.

She loved taking ill-gotten gains from the pirates that Steve targeted, but rape had always been one of those illusive words, something that most regulars tagged on with the plundering when they thought of pirates. Pillaging, plundering, and … raping. For all of their exploits on the seas, though, this is the first time that Kono had been exposed to that aspect of pirate life. She’d heard about it – mostly in off-hand remarks – and read about it – the press painting piracy in a bad light, revealing the ugly side of it to those who wanted to romanticize it.

“So …” Kono said, turning her attention to the dead man.

A fiery hatred filled her gut, and though the man was dead, she wanted to take some of that hatred out on him, because what she’d seen – the blonde man’s mouth, open in a silent scream, half of his tongue missing – was something that she knew she could never forget. She hit the dead man with a fist, slammed it into the side of his head, and as he fell she felt a little satisfaction at making him fall, but that wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough, and Kono wanted to kill him again, and again, until she could rid herself of the image of the blonde man, lying naked on the bed. Lying naked and tied up, and bruised, and missing half of his tongue, blue eyes open and begging for help, for death, for something other than lying on that bed, waiting for the inevitable torture that was no doubt visited upon him at least daily. Kono had heard tales about what happened to those taken Wo Fat, to those oppressed by ruthless leaders; she’d seen something of the horror of it in Lori’s eyes when Steve had first introduced the woman to their small fold. But Lori hadn’t spoken about it, and Kono hadn’t dared to ask.

The woman hadn’t said anything about what had happened to her while she was serving out her life-long sentence in a labor camp. Hadn’t spoken for three weeks about anything, until suddenly, she was smiling at something that Chin had said, and quietly speaking, but not about what had happened in her life before Steve McGarrett’s rescue.

The Lori that Kono knew now was not the Lori that she’d been months ago – she’d come out of her shell, and was taking more chances now, speaking louder, smiling more. She was new, and different, and Kono wondered if Lori missed her old self, the self that she’d been before she was sentenced to the labor camp. Kono wondered if she’d have liked that Lori, the one that was whole, the one whose eyes didn’t house dark, shifting shadows from the past.

“Captain, I strongly advise against moving him,” Max’s voice filtered through the door, bringing Kono back to the present, and from dwelling on morbid thoughts about what had happened to Lori, and the poor man lying on the other side of the door Steve had unceremoniously shoved her out of.

Kono hadn’t realized just how much Steve and Chin, and the others, had sheltered her from until just now, and she wasn’t sure whether she should feel grateful or angry about it. She settled, instead, for slamming her fist into the dead man’s face again, and feeling the bones give way as his nose broke, listening to the less than satisfying crunch that resulted from the powerful blow. There was no blood, no painful gasp or moan. There was nothing, but the crunching of bones in a face that was no longer capable of registering pain.

Kono wondered, a little morbidly, what kinds of sounds the man in the room had made, if they’d fallen on deaf ears, or if he’d been taunted, and encouraged to make those satisfying sounds of pain that Kono wished the dead man would make when she punched him in the jaw, pushing it out of joint. He looked broken, face caved in at the nose, jaw off-center, and it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough, and Kono wished she could go back to not knowing. To having it always at the back of her mind, a simple itching of wonder, but not really knowing and understanding it. Wondering, and knowing that it happened in the way that people knew that there were murderers and serial killers in the world, but remaining untouched by them. She wanted to know, but not know. She wanted to erase the knowledge of those eyes, that body, the missing tongue, Max’s voice barreling through the door, advising against moving him, the body, the man whose body had been used again and again, and Kono couldn’t stop hitting the dead man, making him pay for what Wo Fat, and the others, had done to that man on the bed. Intellectually, she knew that there had been others, and that there were others who were being hurt and raped even as she continued to beat on the dead man, making his face unrecognizable.

Blinded by an insensible, powerless fury, Kono landed punch after punch on the dead man’s face, not even feeling when the flesh and bones gave way, not feeling when the broken bones sliced into her hands. She wasn’t aware that the door had opened, that Steve had stepped into the hallway, until he pulled her to her feet, and drew her away from the body of the man he’d killed.

Steve didn’t say anything, just wrapped her in his arms, took the few remaining blows that had been intended for the dead man, and let her weep against his chest, hand running through her hair, smoothing out the tangles.

“It’s okay, Kitten,” Steve murmured, using the nickname that Chin had dubbed her with the first time that she’d deftly climbed the mainmast, settling herself in the crow’s nest, and dismounted with a cart wheeling flourish, landing on her feet.

Her bad knee had hurt, but, not wanting to look weak in front of her new captain, she’d smiled through the pain, and then iced it in the privacy of her cabin. Pushing away from Steve, Kono swiped at a rogue tear, and took a deep breath, returning Steve’s smile with a shaky one of her own. She met his gaze, and nodded, once, letting Steve know that she was fine, or at least would be.

“Have Chin send for Malia, and give him a hand up top,” Steve said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze, and shoving her toward the steps.

Kono nodded, and with one last look behind her, she stepped over the dead body and climbed the stairs, thankful for the fresh sea air that awaited her. Convincing Chin to let Malia set foot on the ship with all of the carnage was going to be a difficult task, but she knew that, though he’d grouse about it, (quietly) he’d send for the doctor. Kono shuddered, knowing that the man she’d seen shackled to the bed must be very badly off if Steve was requesting Malia’s presence. Steve, as much as Chin, tried to shield the gentle doctor from the violence and death that came along with life on a pirate ship. It hadn’t been her calling – life on the seas – but she’d been forced into it, and hadn’t wanted to return to life on land after Steve and Chin had rescued her from life as an indentured servant to a cruel, heartless doctor who wouldn’t know a scalpel from a butcher’s knife if it was plunged into his heart. Chin had had that particular pleasure.


	4. Captain McGarrett and the Man behind the Closed Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets Daniel Williams, the man behind the closed door, and little Grace. Will he be able to convince the frightened man that Daniel has nothing to fear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May read as a little 'Harlequin' romance-ish. I hope that this is not a problem, and that you all continue to enjoy this story as it unfolds. 
> 
> Thank you for your support!

“I’m telling you, Captain McGarrett, it would be unadvisable for us to move Mr. Williams at this time,” Max, the doctor Wo Fat had taken captive during a raid nearly a year ago, said for what must’ve been the hundredth time. He was pacing at the foot of the bed, walking across the length of small room, returning each time to Steve, and then pacing back. 

Steve wondered if Wo Fat had grown to regret letting Max live, as he’d been in the doctor’s presence for under thirty minutes, and was hard-pressed not to throttle him. He feels a headache building behind his eyes, and it’s all that he can do not to bodily toss Max, doctor or not, over the side of the ship.

“Well, we can’t leave him here,” Steve countered, and he ran a hand through his hair, cast a look at the man, Daniel Williams, in question. Steve had removed the cuffs, and covered him with a blanket that had been laid at the foot of the bed.

Though Daniel had to be exhausted and in pain, he was watching Steve warily, his mouth set in a stubborn line. His eyes were the bluest eyes that Steve had ever seen, and, though he felt like an ass for it, he found himself drawn to Daniel Williams because of them. They were sharp, and inquisitive, and hauntingly beautiful.

There was also raw terror reflected in the man’s eyes, and Steve couldn’t blame Daniel for that – had he been in Daniel’s place, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d be afraid, too. But the thing that drew Steve to Daniel the most was that, even after all he’d been through, there was still some fight left in him, and that was as attractive as hell.

“Captain McGarrett,” Max said, sighing, his voice pitched as though he was talking to a young child. “Daniel Williams has been through a most traumatic…”

Daniel took that moment to make a sharp hissing sound, his face twisted in anger. He launched a pillow at the doctor, hitting Max square in the face. The doctor merely frowned and blinked, took his glasses off and squinted at Daniel, before cleaning his glasses on an edge of the tattered shirt that he wore, and replacing his glasses. Steve wondered if it was a nervous tic.

Max and Daniel seemed to engage in a silent, yet heated (and Steve could only judge by the fiery looks in both of the men’s eyes) argument – a battle of the wills that Daniel seemed to win as Max nodded once, and gave Steve a simpering smile. The doctor retrieved the fallen pillow from where it landed at his feet, and returned it to Daniel, who looked a little less fearful than he had before the silent exchange.

“Mr. Williams would prefer that I not discuss the circumstances regarding his current medical status with a complete stranger,” Max said, giving Steve a tight, slightly nervous smile.

“You got all that from that?” Steve waved a hand between the two men, his eyebrows arching. Max shrugged and pushed his glasses – broken at the bridge, and taped together – up on his nose. “Mr. Williams and I have come to know each other well in the time that he’s been here.” 

“I see,” Steve said, and he wondered just how well the doctor and Daniel knew each other.

Some of what he was thinking must’ve registered on his face, and in his voice, because Daniel rolled his eyes, and shook his head. There was just a hint of amusement in Daniel’s eyes. His lips were quirked upward in an almost- smile that made Steve want to coax the real thing from the man. He had a feeling that a real smile from Daniel would be a thing of beauty.

“You see, Captain, I’ve been Mr. Williams’, and his daughter, Grace’s, doctor since…”

Again, Max was cut off by Daniel – the bed-bound man was attempting to sit up, chest heaving with the effort it was taking him, face red, the vein in his neck popping out. Max moved toward Daniel, but Steve got there quicker, sitting down beside the distraught man and pulling him upright, in spite of Max’s warning for him not to move the man.

_Grace._ Daniel formed the name with his lips, his throat and the remnant of his tongue (a short stub), working to make sound. It was garbled, and Steve instinctively held the man close.

“Yes, of course,” Max said. He was kneeling beside the bed, Daniel’s eyes were locked on his, and, once again, they seemed to be engaged in some kind of silent communication that made Steve feel a perplexing tug of jealousy in the region of his gut.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Williams, I should have thought to ask before,” Max sounded contrite, and a little angry with himself. He turned to look at Steve. “Mr. Williams has a daughter on the ship. Captain Wo Fat promised not to harm her if Mr. Williams…”

Steve held up one hand and nodded, not needing to hear the rest. He’d grown up hearing the tales – everyone had – of the infamous pirate with a black heart, who never did anything without getting something in return for it, and even then there were always strings attached. But the black-hearted pirate was now dead, slain by Steve.

Looking at what the pirate had done to Danny, and some of the other people from the cruise that he’d overtaken, made it feel like a hollow victory. There was no erasing the torture that the pirate had visited upon them. They’d bear the emotional, mental, and some of the physical scars for the rest of their lives.

He’s surprised that the ruthless pirate let the little girl live. It deviated from what Steve knew to be true about Wo Fat. Daniel Williams must’ve made the pirate a substantial offer for that to have occurred. Steve eyed the physically battered man beside him with a new focus, trying to find out what it was about the other man that could’ve caused Wo Fat to abandon some of his own steadfast rules.

At first glance, the all that Steve could see were the mottled bruises, the emaciation, and the brokenness of Daniel Williams. Wo Fat, he’d been told by Max, had cut Daniel’s tongue out in a fit of rage, because the man had insulted the proud pirate one too many times.

At second glance, Steve saw the steely nerve, and the raw tenacity that Daniel Williams still clung to, in spite of his less than ideal circumstances. He was battered, body shrunken and covered in reddened whip marks that, when they healed, would forever remain as a visual memory of what he’d suffered. The daily rapes, by Wo Fat, and other crew members whom the pirate had given permission to lie with his slave, wouldn’t leave any thin, silvery-white marks on Daniel’s body, but they would leave an invisible scar which would score him far, far deeper than any other.

Steve’s gut clenched with anger, and, unwittingly, he tightened his grip on Daniel’s shoulders, digging his fingers bruisingly into the flesh. Daniel’s wordless gasp, just a warm breath coasting across Steve’s collarbone made him loosen his grip, and he gave Daniel an apologetic smile.

“Captain, with your permission, I believe that Mr. Williams would like to see his daughter. Captain Wo Fat…” Max swallowed, and grimaced, as if saying the dead pirate’s name made him sick, and maybe it did. Steve had no idea what atrocities the aggravating doctor had been forced to endure during his captivity.

“He permitted young Grace Williams to visit her father for an hour each afternoon. With everything that’s happened…”

Steve blinked and frowned. He didn’t recall seeing any children on the ship, let alone a little girl, and his gut tightened at the implications of that. Had Daniel Williams’ little girl – maybe the only thing that he’d been clinging to all this time, the promised, daily visits – been inadvertently killed during the battle? He prayed not.

“Of course, as our new captain…” Max trailed off, and Daniel Williams stilled in Steve’s arms, going even whiter than he already was.

“You, well, what are your plans Captain McGarrett?”

Steve wanted to bring what little color Daniel had back to his face, wanted to reassure the man that, not only would he be able to see his daughter, but that he’d be able to see her anytime he wanted to – that he wouldn’t keep his daughter, Grace, from him. Wanted to promise Daniel a great deal many things that simply made no sense to Steve, because he’d just met the man and he didn’t have a handle on his feelings, his desire to protect and treasure and do whatever it was that Daniel Williams wanted him to do. It was insane, and dizzying, and yet, looking into Daniel’s bright, blue eyes, it all made sense to him. It was like he’d finally found home.

“My plans are to move the survivors onto my ship, and sink the Black Heart,” Steve said. “We’ll berth in O’ahu, and those who wish to debark, may. Those who were taken by Wo Fat, if they want to, they’ll be free to leave, to resume the lives that were stolen from them.”

At the questioning look in Daniel’s eyes, which have not left Steve’s gaze, Steve adds, “He’s dead. Wo Fat’s dead.”

The way that Daniel sagged in his arms, quiet tears spilling from his eyes, fingers digging into Steve’s captain’s coat, make him wish that he’d said all of that sooner, that he’d set Daniel’s mind at ease when he’d first walked into the man’s prison of several months. He held Daniel while the man cried, finger going to his lips when the door opened, and Malia stepped inside, her black doctor’s bag in hand. Immediately relieved at the sight of her, he sighed. He trusted Malia, and though he knew that Danny trusted Max, Steve didn’t know him.

Malia wasted no time in beginning her examination when Daniel pulled back, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He gave Malia a shaky, almost-smile, and sank against Steve, as though he feared the man would leave him, and Steve wondered at how Daniel could stand to have another man that close to him, after what he’d gone through.

“Max, why don’t you go and find Mr. William’s daughter, bring her down to see her father,” Steve ordered quietly, and was happy when Max merely nodded, and then stepped out of the room. A sudden thought occurred to him, and it was accompanied by a hot flash of jealousy. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, and called out to Max, who had just disappeared from view.

“And,” Steve swallowed again, the very taste of the words that he didn’t want to, but had to say, making him feel nauseous. “If there’s a Mrs. Williams, bring her down too.”

Daniel shook his head, grabbed Steve’s arm and dug his fingernails in hard enough to leave a mark, even through the thick jacket that he wore. There was a stricken look on Daniel’s face, and Steve wanted nothing more than to undo whatever it was that he’d done to put it there.

“Never mind,” Steve said when Max popped his head in. “Just bring Grace.”

“Oh,” Max said, blinking owlishly. “Mr. Williams’ ex-wife is dead. Wo Fat, and his men, killed her, along with all of the other women, sank them with the cruise ship.”

He delivered the news matter-of-factly, and without the smallest hint of emotion, but it hit Steve like a punch to the gut, especially when Daniel’s breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip, as though reliving the moment his ex-wife was killed. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that Wo Fat had made the survivors watch, and he drew Daniel closer, giving him what little comfort he could as Daniel remembered the deaths.

Steve was no stranger to Wo Fat’s methods, had watched as members of his SEAL team, when he was still a member of the Navy, were killed. He’d had to watch silently, not give his position away, or he’d have been killed too. It had taken everything that Steve possessed not to go after Wo Fat then and there, his own wounds notwithstanding. He’d have willingly died that day, in an attempt to avenge his teammates’ deaths.

When Max left, carrying out his errand for his new captain, Steve felt Daniel relax, though the man tensed as soon as Malia started setting her equipment out on the bed beside him. His eyes were trained on the doctor, watching her every move, and eyeing the various tools she’d laid out with mounting anxiety. He made a strangled sound at the back of his throat, and Steve forced Daniel to look into his eyes, willing the wounded man to stop panicking, and to trust him.

“Daniel,” Steve said, gripping Daniel’s chin in his fingers, not letting the man move his head.

Daniel’s breathing had taken on a labored quality, and Steve was afraid that the man would work himself up so much that he’d pass out. He didn’t want that, wanted Daniel to know that he was safe, that Steve, and Malia, wouldn’t hurt him.

“Daniel, look at me,” Steve ordered gently, and he gave the man a smile when Daniel did as he was told. “This is Malia, she’s the doctor on my ship. She’s going to take a look at you. I promise you that she won’t hurt you. Okay?”

“Okay?” Steve pressed when Daniel continued to stare at him, wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing on frantic, shuddering breaths. “Daniel, I need you to breathe. You don’t want your daughter, Grace, to come in and see you like this? Do you?”

Steve hated the words as soon as they’d left his mouth. Hated the way that Daniel flinched, and jerked, the way his breath stuttered and stopped before he regained some of his earlier composure. Hated the way the man’s eyes closed, his brow crinkling, and then the way that he nodded, and opened his eyes, pinning Steve with a resigned look.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I had no right to say that,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair, and leaning his forehead against Daniel’s.

“I’m sorry; I had no right to use your daughter as leverage against you. I’m not like that, Daniel, I promise you. When you’re ready, if it’s okay, I’d like for you to let Malia take a look at you.”

After a moment that felt like forever, during which Daniel stared into Steve’s eyes in a manner which felt like he was being weighed and sifted by the other man, and perhaps he was, Daniel gave him the ghost of a smile, and nodded. His eyes darted toward Malia, who was watching the both of them, a small smile on her lips, and though his eyes still held a note of fear, he squeezed Steve’s arm, and let out the breath that he’d been holding.

“I’m sorry Daniel,” Steve apologized again, rubbing a thumb across the man’s wrinkled brow. “I’m new at this. I…”

Daniel rolled his eyes, and pushed at Steve, letting him know that it was okay, that he’d been forgiven. Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, wondered if he’d just engaged in that silent form of communication that Daniel and Max seemed to have perfected, the communication that he was, for some unfathomable reason, jealous of.

“Okay,” Steve said, moving to stand, to give Daniel some privacy for Malia’s examination. “I’ll be just on the other side of that door.”

Steve didn’t make it any further than the edge of the bed, half-rising. Daniel has the cuff of Steve’s coat fisted in a hand, his grip so tight that his knuckles are white. His blue eyes trained on Steve, and his jaw set in a stubborn line, Daniel shook his head.

“You want me to stay?” Steve needed clarification, didn’t want to make another foolish mistake in dealing with Daniel.

Daniel raised a single eyebrow, and sighed in an exasperated sort of fashion, dragged a hand through his head of unruly, golden curls. He narrowed his eyes at Steve, and nodded.

Steve felt as though he’d been given a thorough dressing down by the man, and Daniel hadn’t said a single word. It was more than a little unnerving, and Steve found himself even more attracted to the man, which made him feel like a complete heel. He’d have to hold those kinds of feelings in check for a long time in coming, until Daniel was well on the road to recovery.

“Captain, if you could take a seat over here,” Malia said, patting the mattress on the other side of Daniel.

Daniel swallowed convulsively, watching Malia’s hands, and holding his breath when Steve moved behind him, repositioning himself on the other side of the injured man. He squeezed Daniel’s shoulders as he passed, keeping his grip firm, and telegraphing his every move, knowing that Daniel would need that as a reassurance. Daniel was trembling, and his fingers were digging into the blankets that Steve had covered him with when he’d found him. His eyes were closed, and his skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, though his skin was cold and clammy to the touch.

“He’s in shock,” Malia said, drawing Steve’s attention from Daniel. He wrapped his arms around Daniel, wanting to take the pain and the fear away from the man, wanting to absorb it, and take it all onto himself.

“It’s understandable, given the circumstances,” Malia said, and she spoke in a soothing voice. “Daniel, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to start my examination. I won’t do anything without telling you first. Okay?”

It took awhile, and Steve held his breath as he waited, but finally, Daniel opened his eyes and nodded. Steve released his breath, and gave Daniel a gentle squeeze. Malia was quick, and efficient, and she never lingered long over any one spot. She gave away nothing of her diagnosis as she worked, and Steve was grateful for that, grateful for how she was able to get Daniel to relax, his breathing to even out, as she worked.

As Malia was finishing up her exam, there was a small, tentative knock on the door, which had been left slightly ajar. A small head, dark-hair fashioned into twin braids, popped into the room, and brown, inquisitive eyes quickly darted around the room. The little girl – and Steve hadn’t seen a child in years, not many survived life on the open seas – frowned when her gaze landed on Steve, and her eyes narrowed, and almost seemed to be smoldering when she caught sight of Steve’s hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

Malia snapped her kit shut, and quickly covered Daniel’s lower body. She gave Steve a look which let him know that Daniel had a long road to recovery. He hadn’t been expecting anything less, but it still made his heart ache for the man.

“Danno?” the little girl queried; her voice a desperate, worried whisper.

Her eyes were now trained on Daniel, and Steve wondered at the nickname that she’d used. He looked between the two, unable to find a resemblance. Where Daniel was light-haired and blue-eyed, the little girl was dark-haired and had brown eyes.

Daniel squeezed his hand, lightly, communicating to Steve that everything was alright. A quick sidelong glance at Daniel almost stole Steve’s breath from him. The man was smiling, and it was as beautiful as he’d thought it would be, maybe a little more so. It was directed at the little girl, and when Daniel opened his arms to her, she launched herself at him, full-on, practically flying through the air, and landing on the bed with an, ‘oomph,’ that shook the bed.

“Danno! I missed you so much,” the little girl, and Steve knew that this was Grace, said.

She gave her father a bone-jarring hug, and only Steve and Malia caught the man’s wince. Daniel spared his daughter that. Daniel made a soft chuffing sound – laughter – when Grace buried her face into the crook of her father’s neck.

“He can’t hurt you anymore, Daddy,” Grace said, pulling back from her father, and clasping his face between her hands.

“The bad man that killed Mommy, and hurt you is dead, and I’m happy.” Grace frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, as though expecting her father to chastise her. Her bottom lip trembled as she fought against angry tears that her father brushed away with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t care if it’s wrong to be happy about someone dying. He was a bad man, Daddy, and I’m glad he’s dead.” Grace hugged her father again, burrowing against his chest.

Daniel held his little girl close, rested his cheek on the top of her head, and gave Steve a grateful smile, reached an arm out to draw the man into a semi-hug.

Steve wished that he could resurrect Wo Fat, just so that he could kill him again, this time, draw out the man’s pain, make it last as long as humanly possible. He didn’t like torturing people, but he would love to have another chance at killing Wo Fat, torturing the man first. He hoped that Wo Fat was in the deepest recesses of Hell, and that Satan was giving the pirate as good as he’d given those he’d hurt while he was alive.

Grace sniffed, and turned her head toward Steve, and Steve, ill-used to being stared at by children, wasn’t sure what to do, or say.

“Did you save my Danno?” Grace asked.

Not sure what to say, or if he could even trust his voice in the face of such trusting innocence, Steve nodded.

Grace smiled at him, and with a questioning look at her father, who smiled and nodded at whatever she’d wordlessly asked him, she pulled away from her father, and threw her arms around Steve, hugging him so fiercely that it momentarily stole his breath.

Steve stiffened, unsure of what to do, because he’d never been hugged by a little girl before. Kono sometimes hugged him, but it was quick and often in passing, and Lori had recently given him something that resembled a hug, which Steve knew was hard for the woman. Jenna Kay had only hugged him once, and it had been fleeting – there one second and gone the next. Sometimes Chin gave him one of those manly one-armed hugs, but he’d never been hugged like this, not since he’d been little, not since his Auntie Deb, and his little sister, Mary, but that, more often than not, ended with a punch in the arm. His sister had always been a tomboy.

His eyes darted over to Daniel, who was watching him with a look that was a cross between amused, and affronted. Daniel shook his head, and wrapped his arms around Steve and Grace, and Steve relaxed, putting one arm around Daniel, and the other around Grace, holding them both as close as he dared, more than aware of Daniel’s injuries, and worried that Grace, though she looked healthy and whole, could have hidden injuries.

He’d have to get Daniel’s permission for Malia to examine Grace, and hoped that the man wouldn’t fight him on this. Now that he’d met her, Steve wanted to protect Grace as much as he wanted to protect Daniel, maybe even more, because she was still young, and relatively (he hoped) innocent.

“Thank you,” Grace whispered, and she kissed Steve on the cheek, blushing a little.

“Thank you for rescuing my Daddy, and,” she looked away, biting her bottom lip, her face turning red, and her eyes blazing when she lifted her eyes to Steve’s, “thank you for killing the evil man.”

Steve’s gut clenched, and he pulled Grace and her father closer, tightening his grip on them, as if he could hold them all together, and take away the pain of what had happened to them. Erase what Wo Fat had done.


	5. Daniel Williams -- Newborn Kitten with a Fucked-up Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny may no longer have his voice, but his mind just doesn't seem to want to shut up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of the feedback, and for reading. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this chapter.

Danny felt weak as a newborn kitten, and he hated it. Hated that, when the pirate, Captain Steven McGarrett, had stumbled upon him in Wo Fat’s chambers, he was so terrified that he couldn’t think straight. He’d only had one thing on his mind when he heard the attack going on up above deck, and that was Grace’s safety. He hated being separated from her, especially now that her mother was dead.

Grace had been entrusted to the care of Adam ‘Toast’ Charles’ – the young man who’d been paid to accompany Rachel and her new husband, Stan Edwards, on their journey to the islands. Danny was grateful that Wo Fat hadn’t killed his little girl, and that the pirate had fallen for his ploy to keep Grace, himself, and Toast, alive. 

There was no buried treasure, no royal heritage, no reason for Wo Fat to keep the trio alive, and Danny had been worried that the greedy, heartless pirate wouldn’t buy what he was selling, but Wo Fat had – or he’d pretended to for a time. Danny supposed that, toward the end, the pirate might’ve suspected that Danny had been leading him on. 

If the Mercy (and Danny wasn’t even going to go into what a ludicrous name for a pirate ship Mercy was) hadn’t happened along when she had, Danny would have been dead. Wo Fat was done toying with him, knew that Danny had lied, and he’d promised Danny to the crew that night – to be, quote, Fucked to death, end quote. 

Danny had no reason to doubt that the man would make good on his threat. Everything Wo Fat had told him that he’d do to Danny, he had – from whipping, to fucking, to cutting Danny’s tongue out. Conversely, he’d also kept his other, less horrific, promises – letting Danny see Grace for one hour every afternoon. 

That lone hour, each day, provided that Danny had followed Wo Fat’s orders, and made it good for Wo Fat, or whichever nameless pirate who’d been afforded the privilege of fucking him, was what kept Danny alive. That promise of seeing Grace is what kept him from losing his mind, and helped him endure the beatings, and everything else that Wo Fat subjected him to. 

Danny shook his head, refocused his attention on the new pirate in his life – McGarrett, Steve. He’d told Grace and Danny to call him Steve (And wasn’t that funny, telling a man who couldn’t even talk to call him Steve?). Steve was saying something to Grace that had the little girl blushing and giggling, and tugging on Danny’s arm. 

Danny wished that he hadn’t been lost in thought, that he’d been paying attention to whatever it was that Steve had said, because he hadn’t heard his little girl laugh like that since before. Before their cruise ship had been boarded by Wo Fat’s crew, before her mother and new stepfather had been executed in front of her, before her father had been bodily taken from her, beaten and whipped while the survivors and Wo Fat’s crew had watched. 

Wo Fat had called Danny the ‘sacrifice,’ and Danny wondered if the man had ever bought his lies, if all that he’d done for Danny (saving Grace, because, in the grand scheme, she was everything) was because of this concept of, ‘sacrifice.’ Danny had heard about Wo Fat, but had dismissed the gory details that he’d read about the man as an over-hyped legend, making the pirate seem almost larger than life. 

Danny knew, now, that the stories that he’d heard had been no elaboration based on a true story. If anything, the legend of Wo Fat had been downplayed on the internet stories that he’d read before accompanying his ex-wife, and her entourage, on their cruise ship bound for the Hawaiian islands. 

There was no way in hell that Danny was going to let his little girl leave the mainland, and start a new life with her mother and her step-father, without him. He’d given up everything to follow Grace – his home, his livelihood, his heritage. Had nothing waiting for him on the island of O’ahu, other than an apprenticeship with the Sea Rangers – there had been no work for a Peace Officer (and Danny had been a damn good Peace Officer) – and he hated the sea. 

Danny had been prepared to accept all of it – to start a new career, and begin a new life, from scratch – he’d been prepared for a largely unpleasant life, with just the promise of every other weekend visits with his daughter. 

But now, Danny doesn’t know what to do with his life. Doesn’t feel like he can live a full life anymore, after what happened to him. He still has Grace, though. But what good was a broken father to a daughter who still had her whole life ahead of her? 

“Danno,” Grace’s voice pulled Danny from his musings, and he forced his gaze to her face. 

She was smiling, her eyes sparkling. He mustered a smile for her, suddenly feeling a wave of tiredness crash over him. If it wasn’t for Steve, who still had his arm wrapped around Danny’s back, he’d have sagged back against the bed. 

_What is it, monkey?_ he mouthed, and he swallowed back a sudden onslaught of tears that threatened to fall. His former partner, Grace, his daughter’s namesake, had always told Danny that he talked too much. Perhaps the loss of his voice, and his tongue was just a matter of poetic justice – Grace’s spilled blood demanding a sacrifice. 

Grace’s smile didn’t waver, and she placed a hand on Danny’s cheek. 

“Captain Steve’s just like the knight in the story that you read to me on the cruise ship – the one who slayed the nasty, mean, fire-breathing dragon.” 

Danny offered his little girl a watery smile, and nodded, had to bite back a laugh at the puzzled look on Steve’s face. 

“I don’t think he’s anything like mean, old Captain Wo Fat, Danno. I think he’s nice, and kind and safe. I think it’s okay for us to go with him,” Grace stated quietly, nearly whispering the last few words. “I don’t think he’ll hurt us, Danno.” 

“She’s right,” Malia said, Danny had almost forgotten that she was there. 

She’d grown quiet once Grace had arrived, and had packed up her equipment. She was now sitting at the foot of the bed, and appeared to be watching them; Danny got the distinct impression that she was weighing her words carefully. 

“Captain Steve McGarrett is one of the kindest men I’ve ever met. He’s helped a lot of people, myself included. He, and his crew, are different than other pirates.” 

Danny wasn’t sure he could trust anything that anyone said. He was sore, and tired, and he just wanted to drift away, now that he knew Grace was safe, and that she hadn’t been accidentally (or purposefully) killed in the battle that had taken place above him. A battle that he couldn’t see, could only hear. 

“I know that it’s a lot to take in, Danny,” Malia said, her mouth in an understanding line. “You don’t mind if I call you, Danny, do you?” 

Danny shook his head. He preferred Danny to the stern-sounding, Daniel. That was what Rachel had called him. It was a bittersweet memory now, because, toward the end of their marriage, Danny had grown to hate the way that she’d said his name, but now that she was gone, all it did was serve to remind him of how bravely she’d died. How she’d held his gaze, mouthed at him to take care of their little girl, and then jumped off the edge of the plank, hands bound behind her back, to die in a watery grave. Stan had been next to go, pleading for his life. 

“Or, would you preferred to be called Danno?” Malia asked. 

Danny shook his head. That was a special nickname, one that only Grace got to call him. He shuddered, remembering when Wo Fat had overhead Grace call him that, how the man had tortured him with the nickname until Danny had screamed his throat raw, and wept. It made bile rise to his throat, and, before he could stop himself, he leaned over the edge of the bed – bringing Steve, who was still holding onto him, along with him – and puked. 

There was little in his stomach – Wo Fat fed him whenever he wanted to, and had often used food as leverage, bribing Danny with the odd piece of fruit, or bread, for some sexual favor that he wanted to pretend Danny was performing willingly. And Danny had done it. Had given the sadistic fuck what he’d wanted, because he’d needed to eat. 

Shame flamed his face when he heaved one last time – the last vestige of yellowish-green bile spilling from his lips – and he felt Steve’s hand, strong, soothing on his back. 

Steve’s hands felt nothing like Wo Fat’s – slick with sweat, or Danny’s blood, and always groping, blunt, bony fingers – and Danny forced himself to push aside the memories that threatened to engulf him as Malia plied him with a bottle of water, and Steve held him close. 

Grace’s face hovered in front of his, and Danny wanted to reassure her that he was okay, but he couldn’t speak – would never be able to utter another word for as long as he lived, all because he’d had to open his big, fat mouth and tell Wo Fat to go fuck himself. 

In the end, Wo Fat had taken his tongue, and then fucked him anyway, and he’d let Sang Min fuck Danny afterwards. Danny had come closer to death that night than he wanted to admit, and he hadn’t cared. He hadn’t wanted to live, but there was the promise of Grace, and Wo Fat had dangled the little girl, and her wellbeing, before him like a carrot. 

“Shh, it’s okay, Danno,” Steve’s words jarred Danny from the waking nightmare that he found himself in – wedged between Wo Fat and Sang Min, one man’s dick down his throat, and the other one’s dick up his ass – and he gasped for air, only then aware of the fact that he’d stopped breathing. 

“It’s okay, Danno,” Steve said, and though the man was using the special epithet Grace had given him, it didn’t make Danny’s stomach feel sick and oily the way that Wo Fat’s utterance of the moniker had. 

“I’ve got you now,” Steve promised, lips pressed to Danny’s ear as he ran his fingers through Danny’s hair, and rocked him. 

Danny felt like he was trapped, and yet he felt safe, and he was hot and cold, and terrified, and relieved, and, for the first time in what felt like forever, he had the distinct, if fleeting, impression that he was finally home. 

The panic – being held so close, and touched by large, very male, calloused hands – was clawing at Danny’s throat, and he knew that he was making a pathetic sound which was halfway between a moan and a high-pitched whimper. It was extremely undignified, and, though he wanted to stop it, wanted to be something other than the sniveling mess that he currently was, he was powerless. 

He was powerless, and trapped, and he couldn’t breathe, and Steve’s lips were touching his ear, and the man was calling his name over, and over again, and his hands were solid anchors on Danny’s back and on his head, and Grace, his Grace was crying. Danny could hear her, could smell the salt of her tears, could feel them wetting his chest, and stinging the still open wounds from the last lashing that he’d endured earlier that morning. 

Wo Fat had been angry with him, and Danny couldn’t remember why. Sometimes he did something to provoke the pirate’s punishment – to prove to Wo Fat that he hadn’t been broken, that Danny Williams was still a man – and other times it seemed like Wo Fat was bored, that he needed an outlet for his boredom or his pent-up anger, and Danny was it. Danny hadn’t felt a single lick of the whip as it tore through his skin over and over again that morning. He’d grown used to it, used to the pain, and numb. 

“Danno,” Grace’s voice pulled Danny from the brink, kept him from slipping into another nightmare. “Please stop it, Daddy, you’re scaring me.” 

His daughter’s words acted as a slap across the face, and Danny drew in a shaky breath, and then another, and another until he was no longer gasping for air. Steve’s hand never left his back – rubbing circles – or his hair, fingers massaging Danny’s scalp. 

Danny swallowed, mouthed, _I’m sorry,_ and then pulled Grace in for a hug. She clung to him, her thin body shaking, and Danny held her close, wanting to let her know that he was okay. He felt like the worst father on the planet, scaring, and then taking comfort from his daughter. 

“Steve, the sooner we get them off this ship, the better,” Malia said softly. “He won’t be able to walk, and you’re going to have to be careful with him. Max was right, Danny shouldn’t be moved, but he can’t stay here.” 

She shook her head, and Danny could see that there were tears glistening in her eyes. He hated that he’d put them there, even though it wasn’t by choice. A lot of things in his life weren’t by choice anymore, and Danny wondered if he’d ever regain the right to choose, and if that even mattered anymore. 

“If you’d like, I can give you a light sedative,” Malia said quietly, resting her hand on Danny’s knee. 

Danny shook his head, and took a deep breath. He needed his wits about him if he was going to be moved. He hadn’t been out of the bed for what felt like forever, and the thought of getting off of the soiled mattress made him light headed, and anxious. 

“How long has it been?” Malia’s next question was asked so quietly that Danny almost didn’t hear it. 

Danny shrugged. He had no idea how long it had been since he’d been outside of his five-by-whatever-the-fuck prison. He’d long since lost track of real time, measuring each day by the moments he spent with Grace – nothing else mattered. 

Malia gave him a smile, and squeezed his knee. “That’s okay, Danny.” 

Danny didn’t miss the tightlipped look that she exchanged with Steve, nor the fact that Grace had planted herself firmly in his lap, arm wrapped securely around his waist, head resting against his chest. Steve had an arm around the both of them, and instead of feeling suffocated and trapped, though, Danny felt oddly safe, and secure. 

Danny took a deep breath, and steeled his nerves. He moved his hand to the top of Malia’s and squeezed it. When she raised her eyes to his, Danny tried his best to offer her a smile. 

“Okay, Doc,” Steve’s voice was too cheerful, and Danny turned his head, and rolled his eyes at the man. Either Steve didn’t notice the look that Danny was giving him, or he was choosing to ignore it – Danny was betting on the latter. “How do you want to do this?” 

“I’d prefer if we had a gurney.” Malia sighed. “Perhaps we should send for Kamekona.” 

“I can carry him,” Steve said, chest puffing out. 

Danny almost laughed – would have laughed had there been anything funny about this situation – because Steve sounded for all the world like a petulant five-year-old boy. Instead, he shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

Steve was actually pouting, and for some reason that Danny couldn’t explain, or understand, it eased some of the anxiety that he was feeling. He wondered what it was about seeing a grown man – or maybe it was just this particular grown man – behaving like a spoiled child, that made him feel like maybe, someday, everything would be okay. That he would be okay, or maybe just a little less broken. 

_Goof,_ Danny mouthed, and he chuckled – the sound light and breathy – when Steve’s face fell, and the man’s bottom lip jutted out. 

“Danno,” Grace’s voice was sharp with censure, and she gave him a look that was a mirror image to that of one that Rachel had given him whenever she was appalled by something that he’d done, or simply exasperated with him. 

“That wasn’t very nice. Captain Steve’s just trying to help. He’s very nice, Danno. You should apologize.” 

Being lectured by his nine-year-old daughter about manners wasn’t exactly what Danny had in mind when he’d begged Max to see his daughter earlier, but it beat how he’d anticipated the day unfolding, and he swallowed back a sudden onslaught of tears. 

Steve gave him a smug look, seeming to preen under Grace’s praise. Danny took a deep breath (shoving the tears of happiness, and anger, and frustration aside for the time being), shook his head, and threw his arm up in the air. It wasn’t fair, being tag-teamed by his daughter, and the debonair Captain Steve, when he couldn’t talk and defend himself. 

Danny had always prided himself on his ability to use words to his advantage. He’d always been verbose – it ran in his family – and he’d found his quick wit and large vocabulary to be great assets when he was a kid, and when he’d been a Peace Officer. He could talk circles around just about anyone – aside from his mother and sisters. 

Now, though, stripped of his voice, Danny had very little that he could use toward his advantage. He felt more naked and vulnerable than the repeated rapes had made him feel, and he hated it. 

“Danno?” Grace was watching him, her brow furrowed in concern, and gentle reproof. 

Danny sighed, and rolled his eyes, and mouthed an unapologetic, sarcastic, _Sorry,_ hoping that it would translate as such, in spite of the lack of intonation. 

Grace shook her head, and sighed, but she didn’t pester him to apologize sincerely, and Steve seemed satisfied. Danny found the smug look on the other man’s face ( _pirate,_ he reminded himself) rather endearing, and unnerving. It was a thought which took him by surprise, and one that he wasn’t ready to fully entertain just yet – not after losing Rachel, and not after what he’d been through. 


	6. Moving Right Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve needs to get Danny to the Mercy while his crew sees to the demolition of Wo Fat's ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who've left me some feedback - nice to know there are still people out there interested in reading this story.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> Mahalos!

Steve was doing his best to keep from simply wrapping Danny up in a blanket and lifting him from the bed – he wanted to take Danny away from all of this, and to free him from every sordid memory of Wo Fat. 

He was enjoying the easy communication between himself, Grace, and even Danny – the man could make a look go a very long way, and he mouthed his words very clearly. It felt comfortable and it made Steve think of family. He had never been very close to his mother, father or sister, and there had always been a part of him which had longed for the brief sense of belonging he’d had when he’d lived with his aunt off and on over the years. 

Steve wondered what the man’s voice had sounded like – he was imagining something deep and rich, perhaps a little gravelly with all that Danny had been through. He wondered if Danny would ever regain his ability to speak; if he’d learn how to talk with what little remained of his tongue, or if the man, who, by all appearances (even though Steve hadn’t known him long) valued speech. 

“Captain,” Malia’s voice was quiet, and there was a small smile playing about her lips, as though she could read what he was thinking. “We should really get Mr. Williams – “

Danny cleared his throat, and Malia blushed. 

“I’m sorry, Danny,” she corrected, “onto the Mercy where I can make him more comfortable, and take a closer look at him.” 

Steve nodded, and took a deep breath. He had to be careful, because he didn’t want to hurt Danny, and he didn’t want to scare the injured man either. 

Steve knew that, if he was in Danny’s place, he wouldn’t want to be touched by anyone, let alone a man that he’d just met. And, even though they’d enjoyed a moment of levity together, Steve was still little more than a stranger to Danny, and Grace. Something that Steve would endeavor to remedy over the three months that it would take them to journey from where they were to the international port in Honolulu. 

It would take considerably less time to navigate through the seas if Steve didn’t have to alter their route to avoid certain corrupt naval ships, and winter storms. Sometimes Steve hated the politics involved in his chosen profession, and he longed for bygone days – days well before his time – when piracy was simpler, and the Navy could be counted on to be the ‘good’ guys. 

“You ready, Danny?” Steve asked. 

Grace was still sitting beside her father, arms wrapped around him, head resting lightly against his chest. She glanced up at Steve, her brown eyes searching his for reassurance. Steve smiled at her, and was rewarded with a smile in return. 

“Danno, I really think things are going to be better,” Grace said, hugging her father. 

Danny buried his face into his daughter’s hair and closed his eyes. Steve could see the fine tremors that ran throughout Danny’s body, and knew that Danny was trying to get them under control in the way that he fisted the blankets – shoulders tense and backbone straight – and clenched his jaw. 

“I think we can trust him, Danno,” Grace whispered. 

Danny let go of his hold of the blankets and held his daughter close before releasing her and offering her a shaky smile. He nodded, and kissed the top of his daughter’s head, and then he turned to look at Steve. 

Steve’s heart slammed its way into his throat at the naked fear that he saw in Danny’s eyes, and how, even though Danny was clearly terrified, he held Steve’s gaze, and slowly nodded his agreement. He reached to Steve, hand trembling, and patted him on the shoulder, giving his approval for the plan to move him. Steve knew that none of this was going to be easy for Danny, and he was proud that Danny was being so brave, and that Danny trusted him, or at least that he was willing to trust Steve in this. 

“Grace, would you mind helping me with my doctor’s kit?” Malia asked, distracting the little girl, who was watching her father – bottom lip tucked between her teeth – with an eagle’s eye. 

Steve wondered if all little girls were as smart and savvy as Grace seemed to be, or if she was a special case. He thought that it must have something to do with how she’d been raised, and that a lot of what Grace was came from her father. 

After a final hug, Grace extricated herself from her father’s arms, and took the bag that Malia handed her. She puffed out her chest, and held her head high. Danny was watching her with a look of utter love and pride that made Steve’s stomach clench almost painfully. 

This was a man he could fall in love with, he realized. The thought hit him so suddenly that it made him dizzy and he had to close his eyes to ground himself. Danny shifted, and Steve started. He gave Danny an apologetic look, and smiled at the man’s raised eyebrow, clearly indicating his irritation with Steve. 

Steve waited until Grace and Malia had left the cabin before turning to Danny, sensing that the man wouldn’t want his daughter, or the doctor to witness him being bundled up and carried out of the room. 

“So, how do you want to do this?” Steve asked, immediately regretting the question when Danny gave him a heated look. A look that said: _You are such a moron._

Steve felt his face growing red, and he ran a hand through his hair, noting the specks of blood on the back of his hand, and realized that he must look like hell. He hadn’t had time to clean up after the battle, and hadn’t even thought about how he must look to Danny and Grace. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I –”

Danny made an exasperated sound at the back of his throat, and reached out to touch Steve’s cheek. His fingers were warm and tremulous, the tips calloused and cracked, nails split and bitten down to the quick. Steve caught Danny’s hand, and nodded. 

“Okay, we’ll take it slow, one step at a time, and I’ll tell you what I’m doing, before I do it,” Steve said, keeping his eyes locked on Danny’s. “That sound alright?” 

Danny swallowed and nodded, and took a deep breath, letting it out with a shudder. His strength was beginning to flag, and Steve wondered how long Danny would be able to hold out. 

It was a slow, painstaking process, filled with heart-stopping moments, and under-the-breath curses, because moving Danny was like trying to defuse a bomb, underwater, while blind-folded. It was delicate work, and every time an injury was jostled or touched, Danny – in spite of his desire not to – would huff, or wince, or simply hold his breath, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. To bear with it, Steve would picture Wo Fat, and curse the fact that he hadn’t left the asshole alive long enough to rip his tongue out of his mouth through his intestines, and string him up on the mast for the birds to peck at. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, for what must’ve been the millionth time, as he hauled Danny up in his arms, cradling him to his chest like a child. Danny raised his head, and Steve could see the wariness and the strain on the man’s face, but Danny held his ground and narrowed his eyes, clearly glowering at Steve. He huffed out a breath, and flicked Steve in the chest with an index finger before settling in his arms, head on Steve’s chest. 

Danny’s weight was insignificant, and Steve vowed that, by the time they reached the shores of Honolulu, Danny would be too heavy for him to carry without causing him at least some back strain. With Kamekona as a chef, it was only a matter of time before Danny was regaining some of the weight that he lost while being held captive by Wo Fat. 

Steve winced as he navigated the narrow stairwell, inadvertently bumping the railing or the wall along the way. “Sorry.” 

Danny flicked him, in the same exact spot he’d flicked him before, and Steve grinned. “Fine, I’ll stop apologizing.” 

Danny seemed to settle a little, and Steve counted that as a win. It didn’t occur to him, until the last second, that he should do something to shield Danny’s eyes. 

“Fuck. I am a world-class idiot,” Steve intoned, and he didn’t even flinch when Danny flicked him, somehow managing to hit the exact same spot that he had flicked earlier. At this rate, Steve was going to have an impressive bruise. 

“Danny, I’m gonna have to find some way to shield your eyes. I’m betting that it’s been a long time since you’ve seen the sun?” Steve didn’t want to make any assumptions, but Danny’s nod confirmed what Steve already knew to be true – that Danny had not left the room since he’d been brought down there. 

Danny brought an arm out from the pile of blankets that Steve had swaddled him in, and covered his eyes with it. Steve doubted that would be enough, and, this close to the surface, he could see just how pale Danny was. They’d have to come up with a plan for reintroducing Danny to sunlight and fresh air little-by-little so that he wouldn’t get ill from the exposure. 

“Do you mind if I cover your head with a blanket?” Steve felt Danny tense, but the man nodded, and Steve quickly readjusted the blankets so that Danny’s head, and arm, were protected. 

“Alright, here goes nothing,” Steve said, and he stepped onto the deck. 

Chin was waiting for him – a trio of Wo Fat’s crew tied up, was sitting at his feet. Steve surveyed the deck, noting that his crew had made quick work of cleaning up after their bloody battle. Though they would be sinking the ship – sending the dead criminals (if they were working for Wo Fat, they were criminals) to Davy Jones’ Locker, where they belonged – Steve led a fastidious crew, and they made sure that the ship was sparkling clean and rigged to blow. 

The few of Wo Fat’s crew who had survived the battle would be held in the brig until they reached Honolulu. Steve couldn’t take a chance on bringing them to the Navy, because he knew that they wouldn’t get a fair trial, and he was running the risk of having his entire crew detained as well, and even those who’d been rescued – Danny, Grace, Max, and Toast – could be arrested and imprisoned. 

The Navy didn’t tend to see these situations in shades of grey, but rather black and white – everyone aboard a ship which flew pirate flags was subject to the strict rules governing seizure, forfeiture, and imprisonment. Yet another reason why Steve had quit the Navy. 

Chin nodded at him. “Captain.” 

“You need me?” Steve knew that Chin was more than capable of handling the situation, and he really didn’t want to drop Danny off and then leave the man again, but Steve didn’t want to be seen as shirking his duties either. 

“I got it covered, Captain. You want these three in the brig, or…” Chin trailed off, running his thumb across his throat and grimacing. A raised eyebrow and a significant look at the three men who were bound at his feet let Steve know what his second in command recommended, and he shrugged, and nodded. 

Steve trusted Chin’s judgment, sometimes more than his own, and if he thought it would be better to execute the three men from Wo Fat’s crew, then Steve knew that it was for the best. He wondered what had happened for Chin to come to that decision. The former Sea Ranger was virtually unflappable. 

“As you see fit,” Steve said. 

He spotted Kono and Jenna Kaye helping Lori with some of the explosives. By the time Steve and Malia got Danny settled, they’d be ready to go, and Wo Fat’s hold on this part of the ocean would be damaged, and weakened. 

Steve would radio his mother and sister, and let them know that Wo Fat was dead, and give them the go ahead to attack Wo Fat’s ships on their ends. Wo Fat’s empire would soon lie dead on the ocean’s floor, and that still wouldn’t be enough to make up for what the pirate had done to Danny, and others like him, over the years he’d reigned the seas in terror. When he was certain of his mother and sister’s success, he’d radio Catherine, and let her give the Navy a heads up. 

“Danny, just a little further, and I’ll set you down, and Malia will look you over properly,” Steve promised when the other man shifted in his arms. He quickened his pace, and followed Malia’s lead when he reached his own ship, only balking slightly when she’d led them to Steve’s quarters. 

At the questioning look that Steve shot in her direction Malia responded, “You’ve got plenty of space, and he’s going to need a comfortable place to recover in. Kamekona put Grace, Max, and Toast in the room adjacent from yours. It’s really the best place for Danny.” 

Steve nodded, and followed Malia into the room, placing Danny in the center of his bed. He’d bunk with Kamekona and Chin until Danny was well enough to move out of his quarters and into a private bunk for just him and Grace. 

Though he didn’t want to, Steve left Danny in Malia’s capable hands and went to clean up. He was a mess – blood spattered face and hair, not to mention his clothing and hands. It was a wonder that Danny and Grace hadn’t shrunk away from him in fear. He tossed his clothes into a pile and stood beneath the warm spray of his shower for far longer than he would have when he was in the Navy. It felt good, and released some of the tension which had been building inside of him since he’d discovered Danny and Grace on the ship. 

When he finished showering, he tossed his soiled clothing into the bin, knowing that he’d never wear it again. He pulled on a comfortable tee-shirt and cargo pants, and, intending to gather clothing for his extended stay with his crew, he stepped into his room to find Danny tucked securely beneath the blankets – hooked up to two IVs. He was slumbering, his face a mask of peace that belied the horrors he’d suffered. 

Malia was bustling about the room, tidying an already tidy space. Steve wasn’t used to sharing his space with anyone, and he was starting to feel a bit crowded. He made to step out of the room, deciding that he’d return after Malia was finished with setting up equipment, but Malia stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“Steve, I know that this is unconventional, and I will understand if you say no, but I think that Mr. Williams…Danny, would feel more comfortable having you stay with him, rather than me,” Malia said. 

Steve frowned, and cast a furtive glance at Danny. The man’s brow was furrowed, and he’d drawn his knees up toward his chest. It was clear that he was distressed, and rather than answering Malia, Steve took the two steps that would bring him to Danny’s side, and knelt on the floor beside him. 

Unthinking, he placed a hand on Danny’s forehead, and he leaned in close, and whispered, “Danny, it’s okay. You’re safe now. Grace is safe. Wo Fat is dead.” 

Danny seemed to still, and he let out a shaky breath, turning his face toward Steve’s voice. Smiling, Steve continued to whisper reassurances to Danny, he never even heard Malia leave, barely noticed when Kamekona and she set up a cot beside the bed – only moving when they quietly requested, and finally settling on the bed beside Danny, coaxing him back into a deep, peaceful sleep. 


	7. Playing the Hand You're Dealt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Grace kicks butt playing poker with her new friends aboard the Mercy, she thinks about all that has happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grace felt like she should have her very own chapter. I capitulated. 
> 
> I hope that, in spite of the slight fast-forward, it doesn't read as abrupt. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the wonderful, supportive feedback. It is highly valued, and instrumental. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy Grace's chapter.

Grace wasn’t stupid; she understood that her Daddy, her Danno, had been hurt really bad by the pirate who’d killed her mother and Step-Stan. He’d hurt her father in ways that Grace didn’t understand, and she was afraid to ask about. 

She hated pirates. Hated them so much that she wanted all of them to die, even though she knew that it was wrong of her to think that way, that her Daddy and her Mommy wouldn’t want her to wish people dead. Whenever she saw Wo Fat, she gave him the best death glare that she could muster, and all he did was laugh, and slap other pirates on the back, and talk about her Danno. 

Grace was smart – her mother, and father, and even her teachers had told her that – and she knew that, if there was any hope for her father, he’d have to get away from Wo Fat, and, because he was trapped, it would be up to her, and Toast, to help her Danno escape. So, she planned and plotted, and gathered as much intelligence (a word her father had taught her) as she could. 

When she was allowed to see Danno, Grace would sneak food to him. She would hide it in her skirt, and, when Wo Fat left the room, she’d feed it to her father, and tell him everything that she’d learned. He’d caution her to be careful, and she’d promise him that she was being careful, though sometimes she wasn’t, because gathering intelligence was tricky business. 

When the other ship arrived – the one that ended up saving them all – Grace was in the middle of winning money and goods from a group of pirates who, even though she’d beat them countless times before, always seemed to come back to see if they could beat her at poker. Her Daddy had taught her well, though, and it was rare for her to lose. 

She was collecting the goods – an apple, a gold coin, and a pair of shoelaces – when the first boom sounded and their ship was rocked by a cannon blast. Toast shoved her beneath a lifeboat, and covered her with his body, and the pirates all scattered to fight. 

Grace fought to get to her father, but Toast held her secure, and she couldn’t wriggle free, even though she clawed at and bit him. She felt bad about that now, but at the time, all she could think about was her Danno, and how he was all alone, and probably frightened, and now that he couldn’t speak, he wouldn’t be able to shout for help. 

When the gunfire and the roaring of cannons stopped, Toast finally set her free, and Grace scrambled away from him, her chest heaving with the effort, and heart pounding with fear for her father. She hoped that he hadn’t been hurt during the fight, that Wo Fat hadn’t killed him. 

There was so much blood, and many of the pirates that Grace had gotten to know during her captivity were dead or dying. She could see Wo Fat – lying face up in a pool of blood, his guts spilling out onto the deck – and all she could think was, _Good,_ and then she’d felt sick to her stomach. 

Another pirate, a woman, stepped in front of her, drawing Grace’s attention away from the fallen, and hopefully dead, Wo Fat. Grace was prepared to run, because she was tired of all of this, but the woman caught her in her arms and pulled her into a hug, and Toast grabbed her shoulder and held on tight. 

Grace was tired of putting on a brave face so that her Danno wouldn’t know just how afraid she was, and tired of pretending that she was okay, that she didn’t hate her life on the ship, that she didn’t want every pirate dead, that she didn’t want her Mommy back. She was tired, and scared, and so damn angry that she couldn’t stop the tears when they came. 

The pirate didn’t push her away, didn’t laugh at her, didn’t threaten to kill her, or anything. She just held her and ran her fingers through Grace’s hair, just like her mother used to do when she was feeling sick or sad or scared. The pirate, Jenna Kaye, promised Grace that everything would be okay, and that, when it was safe, she’d make sure that Grace got to see her father. 

It was then that her view of pirates started to shift from black, to something not quite white, but definitely better than evil. Because if pirates could be nice and kind, and hug little girls who were scared and missed their father and their mother, then they couldn’t all be bad. And then she met Captain McGarrett – Steve, and her entire worldview shifted yet again, because Steve was decidedly good, _and_ he was a pirate, and he was good to Danno. 

“Keiki,” Kamekona groaned, slapping his cards down on the table, and bringing Grace back from memories of the day that she and Danno had been rescued. “You’re killing me, here. I’m out.” 

He leaned back in his chair, causing it to creak, and crossed his arms over his chest. In spite of the fact that he’d just lost, again, he was smiling. 

Grace raised an eyebrow at the chef, and looked at her hand. She just needed a king, and she’d have a full house. She could bluff, pretend that she already had all the cards that she needed, but she thought that Chin might be onto her and call her on it. In this case, it would be better for her to play it safe – there was a chocolate cake at stake after all, and Grace wanted to win that for her father. Chin – the only one left in the game besides her – was playing for a custard pie, and Grace was determined to win. 

She held her breath as the game when Chin raised her two cookies – aside from that night’s dessert, there were also cookies on the line (chocolate chip cookies that Grace knew her Danno would love) – and she met his bet, and then traded for a card, fingers crossed for the needed king. 

Though her heart skipped a beat, Grace did her best not to give her hand away, and she kept her face blank, because, unless Chin had a straight flush, or a four of a kind, she had won the game. Her father had taught her all about tells, and Grace smiled to herself, because, after living on the Mercy for a month, she’d learned everyone’s tells, and the way that Chin’s jaw was twitching was a definite sign that he was bluffing. 

Chin moved his hand, as though to raise the bet again, but, at the last minute, he shook his head and laid his cards out on the table, proving Grace right in her assessment. He’d had nothing in his hand, and had been raising the bet in hopes that she would fold. 

Grinning, but not in a way that her father would term bragging, Grace placed her cards, one-by-one, face up on the table, and then swept the cookies over to her rather significant pile. She’d already earmarked a portion of her win for Malia, Toast, Lori, Jenna Kaye, her father, and Steve, though she knew Steve didn’t really like chocolate chip cookies, and he’d just give them to her or her father. 

Chin stretched and said, “One of these days, you’re going to have to teach me your secret to winning.” 

“Never going to happen, brah,” Kamekona said with a sad shake of his head. “That’s one tightlipped keiki.” 

“I hate to win and run,” Grace said, gathering up her winnings, “but…”

“Go, see your father,” Chin said, pushing her toward the door. 

“Yah, ask him when he’s going to get his lazy butt out of bed again, I could use some help,” Kamekona added. 

Grace gave the chef a cheeky grin, and shook her head. She knew that he was just teasing, and that the man was really just concerned for her father because he hadn’t been down to dinner the past couple of nights – he’d worked himself too hard – trying to do too much, too soon (Steve had said) – and had been exhausted. She hoped that Danno had taken things – his physical therapy – a little easier today, so that he could join them for dinner, and enjoy the chocolate cake she’d won for him. 

Grace raced down the hall, pigtails – courtesy of Lori – flying out behind her. She rounded the corner, almost running smack into Max, and skirting around the doctor who didn’t even seem to notice her. He and Doctor Malia had been working with Danno to help him learn how to speak again, though his throat had been hurt and his tongue had been damaged by Wo Fat. He was able to make some sounds that Grace recognized as attempts at words, but nothing was very clear yet, and Grace knew that her father was frustrated about that. 

She didn’t need to be good at reading people to see how upset Danno was whenever Max left his room, and she hoped that he wasn’t mad at himself this afternoon, because she wanted him to come down to dinner, and she wanted to share her spoils with him. She slowed down as she neared her Dad’s temporary room, the one that he shared with Steve, and sometimes herself (when she couldn’t sleep) and steeled herself. 

Hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst, Grace took a deep breath, and smiled before knocking on the door, and opening it without waiting for an answer. She stood – momentarily shocked – in the doorway, wavering between closing it quietly and going to find her friends, giving them their portion of her winnings, and entering the room. 

In the end, Grace chose to simply watch, or rather her feet made the decision for her, because they flat out refused to move. Steve was sitting on the bed beside her father as he often did, this was not surprising to Grace – arm flung across Danny’s shoulder, hip resting against hip. It was normal, and comfortable, and something that didn’t bother Grace in the least. 

What was new, though, was the smile on her father’s face, and the way that he was staring at Steve – the way that she’d sometimes caught him looking at her mother back when they’d been married and she was just a little girl. 

And Steve was smiling at her father in a way that she’d never seen him smile before. It was soft and his eyes were soft too, and Grace’s heart felt like it was going to hammer right out of her chest, because something was happening even if she couldn’t put a name to it. Her cheeks felt warm, and her stomach twisted with butterflies when Steve leaned close to her father and cupped Danno’s cheek with his hand, and kissed him right on the mouth. 

Grace’s feet found the ability to move when Danno’s hand moved to Steve’s hair, and she snuck out of the room, smiling from ear-to-ear, because she _could_ put a name to what she’d seen on her father and Steve’s face – love. 

She skipped down the hallway, her heart feeling lighter than it had since her mother had been killed, knowing that, even though he couldn’t talk yet, and he had a hard time standing for too long, Danno was going to be alright because of Captain Steve. 


	8. The Beginning of Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they approach Honolulu, Danny tries to communicate to Steve that he wants to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this portion of Steve and Danny's journey. 
> 
> I've been working on a sequel (if anyone's interested) which will focus more on pirate life - Steve's family business - and Steve and Danny's growing relationship. 
> 
> I hope that you find this to be a suitable end for this particular part of Pirate!Steve, and hurt!Danny's, story. 
> 
> Tons of thanks for those who've supported me through offering kudos, and commenting. I can't say how invaluable your words have been.

“Are you sure, Mr. Williams?” Max questioned him for what must’ve been the hundredth time, and Danny was starting to lose patience with the doctor, but he kept his temper in check, and nodded. 

He was more than sure. He’d been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever, but was in reality just a few, short months. With the impending berth at Honolulu tomorrow, Danny no longer had any time to wait and practice and make things perfect. 

It was now, or never. 

He’d lost the battle with getting the doctor to call him Danny back when they were both prisoners of Wo Fat. Danny tried not to think about the pirate – he was dead, and couldn’t hurt him, or Max, or anyone ever again.

That ship had sailed, or sunk, or whatever euphemism best fit the Wo Fat, and his crew’s, demise. He hadn’t seen it himself, but Grace had told him about it – sobbing against his chest as she described, in more detail than he’d ever wanted his precious little girl to know about death – one night when she’d woken from a nightmare and had slipped into bed, wedging herself between him and Steve. 

_That_ had been a surprise – falling for a pirate – but it hadn’t been an unwelcome one. Steve was patient with him, hadn’t pressured him for sex, or anything. 

Their relationship had started out innocently enough – Steve had been comforting him after a nightmare, like he always did, except Danny, seeking something that he couldn’t even begin to identify at the time, had kissed him.

Steve hadn’t pushed him away, but he hadn’t taken control of the kiss either. He’d let Danny lead and call the shots, and had been doing so ever since that first kiss – never taking from Danny what he didn’t ask for ahead of time. 

Now, though there was a part of Danny which was absolutely terrified, he wanted something more with Steve, who seemed to think that, when they disembarked at Honolulu, Danny and Grace would be leaving the Mercy and heading back to New Jersey as soon as they could find a ship to take them there.

Nothing could be further from what Danny was thinking. From what Danny could see of how his daughter interacted with the rest of Steve’s crew, Grace would not be heartbroken to hear that they were going to stay with Steve, if the pirate let them. 

“Alright, Mr. Williams, I will go retrieve the Captain. I believe that he, and half the ship, are engaged in a game of poker at the moment,” Max said. 

Danny hoped that his little girl was kicking some serious butt. He’d heard tales from Toast about how she’d bested most of Wo Fat’s pirates, and from the others – Chin, Kono, Kamekona – about how formidable a player she was. That his little girl had won him one of the best chocolate cakes he’d ever had (and thank god he was still able to taste, even though he was missing half his tongue) was, well, the icing on the cake. She was a pro, and he couldn’t be prouder of her. 

Danny paced the width of the bed, running his hand through his hair, and practicing the exercises that Max had shown him how to do – blowing air out of his mouth, feeling the way that it traveled over the surface of the remnant of his tongue almost tickling it. He then drew a breath in, through his mouth, and let another out. 

In and out. In and out.

“Hah.”

Breathe in, let it out. 

“Hah.”

Breathe. In, out. Easy.

“Huh.” 

Another breath, let it in, and out. 

“Hee.” 

And, again, in, out. 

“Ahh…” 

“Danno?” Steve’s voice startled him. Danny was concentrating so hard on his breathing and ‘speaking’ exercises that hadn’t heard Steve enter the room. 

Danny nearly collided into Steve, his breath caught in his throat, eliciting a strangled sound rather than the sound that he wanted, and he swallowed his next ‘in’ breath. Steve caught him by the elbow and steered him toward the end of the bed, sitting down beside him. 

“Max said you wanted to see me?” Steve looked so serious and worried that Danny almost laughed. 

Instead, he opened his mouth and took a deep breath, paying attention to how the air felt as it trailed over the small portion of tongue that he had left. It felt strange, and cold and almost choked him, because he was so nervous.

Before he lost his nerve entirely, Danny closed his eyes, and concentrated on the sounds he wanted to create. Hoping, praying, that when he attempted to make them, Steve would understand.

He repeated the sounds that he’d spent over two weeks working on with Max, over in his mind, imagined the way that the air would feel as it swept across his tongue on his inhale and exhale. In theory, it was as simple as breathing.

In and out. In and out.

Simple.

Anyone could breathe, with or without a tongue.

Danny imagined the way that he wanted the air to leave his lips as it traversed over his partial tongue, and out of his mouth. He wanted to create sounds, words, that Danny hoped would help Steve understand that, when they reached Honolulu, he and Grace were not going to leave. If Steve would have them, that is.

Danny took a deep breath, and released air out over the stub of his tongue, tried to curl it just right as the sound built up in his chest.

“Scheeve.”

Danny felt spittle gather at the corners of his lips, and he hated the way his voice sounded, how he couldn’t even form the crisp letter,‘t’. 

He couldn’t look at Steve, so he looked at his hands, at Steve’s hand – the man’s fingers twined with his own – and focused on the strength of Steve’s grip, the gentle, firm squeeze, Steve’s sharp intake of breath, and the way that he held Danny’s hand as Danny took another deep breath. 

“D’no.”

His own name was harder, the ‘d’ sounding nasally and indistinct.

Another shaky breath, tightening of fingers, Steve’s encouraging nudge. 

“Luh.” The ‘l’ was a mangled mess, nothing like how it _should_ sound.

Deep breath, sweat dripping into his eyes, and this shouldn’t be so damn hard. 

“Yoo.” The single syllable word was more like a breath than an actual word, and Danny felt shame sweep over his cheeks in warm crimson. 

Danny’s heart fell because there was no way in hell anyone could understand his gibberish. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he tried to pull away from Steve, so that he could wallow in his failure, but Steve refused to let him pull away. 

Steve placed a finger underneath Danny’s chin, and tilted Danny’s head upward, forcing Danny to look him in the eye.

Danny attempted to smile, but he was so disappointed that what he’d been practicing to say had been nothing short of an epic failure that he couldn’t. He had no strength left.

He could’ve written the words out, or made an attempt to sign, but he’d wanted to talk, to let Steve know how he really felt, because words were his _thing_. Or, they had been, before the power of speech had been ripped from him.

Steve brushed a stray tear away from Danny’s cheek with his thumb. His eyes were dark, and his face was unreadable, and Danny wished that he could disappear into thin air, but he couldn’t.

This wasn’t _Harry Potter,_ or some other fantastical world where he could use magic. Hell, if it had been, he’d have prevented any of this from happening in the first place. He and Grace would be back in Jersey, living a good, full life.

A life without Steve…so, imperfect, but…good…or, fuck, maybe this was part of some larger plan, a plot of the gods to bring him and Steve together, or to make him a _better_ man.

Except, Danny wasn’t a better man. He was a broken man. A man who couldn’t even articulate a simple phrase: ‘Steve, Danno loves you.’

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Steve said, and he didn’t wait for the typical nod, didn’t wait for Danny to give him permission.

Steve leaned in and captured Danny’s mouth with his own, kissing Danny in a way that he’d never kissed him before. It was heated and greedy and Steve took, pressed his tongue into Danny’s mouth and let Danny taste what he could. Steve’s tongue against the remnant of his own felt different, and nice, and so fucking _good._

When Steve released him, leaning back, fingers still gripping Danny’s chin, they were both breathless. Steve’s eyes were lidded, and filled with lust. Danny’s heart skittered in his chest, and his stomach flipped, and he was both terrified and excited at the same time. 

“I love you too, Danno,” Steve said, running his thumb over Danny’s tingling lips, before once more kissing him, this time, not asking for permission first. 

This time it was a lazy, lingering kiss which led to flesh-wandering hands, disheveled clothing, sweat-slick skin, and Danny uttering a much more coherent sounding, “Schteeve…guuh.” 

“You like that?” Steve asked, lips hovering over Danny’s. 

Danny was lying on the bed, Steve straddling his hips, fingers tugging at waistbands, and, unable to trust that his voice and tongue would work cohesively again, Danny nodded. He liked Steve’s lips, his tongue, his fingers, the feel of the pirate’s muscles moving beneath Danny’s fingertips. 

“Good,” Steve said, and he dipped his mouth, kissed a path along Danny’s collarbone, and jaw line, that made Danny shiver. 

Danny kept waiting for the flashbacks. Waiting for an ugly vision of Wo Fat to ruin this moment, as it so often did, any time that Danny tried to push it, but it didn’t happen, not even when Steve moved his hips and ground against him. 

“Fuck, Danno,” Steve said, rolling off of him, running a hand through his hair, and making it stick up. “Sorry, shit…”

Danny hit Steve on the arm, and pushed up on an elbow. He wanted to yell at the man, wanted to tell him to finish what he started, because he was hard, and he hadn’t been hard in what felt like forever, and Wo Fat wasn’t even on the fucking horizon, and they needed to finish this, _now._

“Danny, I…”

Danny rolled his eyes, and straddled Steve, and kissed him, snaking a hand down between them to palm Steve through his jeans, lightly biting Steve’s lip when the man hissed and moaned, hips bucking in response to Danny’s touch. He might not be able to speak right now, maybe never, but he _could_ do this. He could show Steve what he wanted and needed, could communicate with his fingers and lips and body what it was that he wanted, and right now, he wanted this. 

He wanted Steve, and he wanted to come undone with Steve. He wanted to wash away every last memory of Wo Fat, wanted to build new memories of what it meant to touch and to be touched, what it meant to kiss and to fuck and to make love. What it meant to be whole again. 

Danny wanted all of that, and more. He wanted Steve. He wanted to be unafraid. He wanted Steve to be unafraid of touching him. He wanted, wanted, wanted…

“Fuck, Danny,” Steve’s voice was pitched and throaty; his hands shaky, like he hadn’t been touched like this in a long time. “You sure about this?” 

Danny slipped his fingers past the waistband of Steve’s jeans, and touched the head of Steve’s dick. It was wet, slick with pre-cum, and Danny growled, worked Steve’s zipper free, and grabbed Steve, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to tease, and to show Steve that, yes, he was sure about this, and that he wanted it. 

When Steve moved his hand between them, touching Danny, rubbing his erection through his jeans, Danny saw stars, and his toes curled, and he moved in sync with Steve. It was slow, almost tortured heaven, and yet they came all too soon, panting and grunting, and Steve shouting out a guttural, “Fuck, Danny, yes!” 

Somehow they managed to take a shower afterward, though Danny’s legs felt like jelly, and he was having a hard time tearing his eyes away from Steve, exploring every inch of him that he could with his eyes, and his fingers, and his mouth.

It gave a whole new meaning to the phrase, coming clean, as, not only was Danny, in effect, washing away the aftereffects of sex, but also what had happened with Wo Fat, putting it behind him as he allowed himself to enjoy touching and being touched by Steve, and watching the suds go down the drain. 

The past was the past, and Danny was not going to let himself be defined by it. He’d been beaten and raped and tortured, and there was no denying that he was damaged goods, but it was clear to him that Steve wanted him just as much as he wanted Steve, in spite of everything. And, for now, maybe forever, that would be enough. 


End file.
